Bilingual Poet’s Dilemma - by
Don’t mind if it’s in Sign,
Or words in witty lines…
writing poetry
In a Secondhand Bookshop - by
Maybe I buy the book in the brief belief / that thoughts can be reciprocal
The Interior - by
A lifetime of work to own a house / then you end up diminished by it.
Ferns like poems - by
They rise
/ out of the earth like innocent serpents set to strike.
/ Their folded, poisoned heads assume
/ an attitude of piety; humility…
Letter - by
Here is a letter
/ come across the ocean
/ over the back of a world
/ curved like a whale.
/ I unwrap it, like tissue,
/ and sentences…
Wedding Dress - by
A paper lantern on a balcony
/ in one of those old Edo evenings you
/ have read about, perhaps. Kabuki, tea
/ and blossom, wavering:…
One Year the Door Will Open - by
Door, I have knocked, pushed,
/ licked and, for a year, stroked
/ your veins smooth as varnish.
/ My knuckles are hard, black beetles.
/ We…
The Privacy of Typewriters - by
I am an old book troglodyte
one who composes on paper
and types up the result
as many times as need be.
In Memoriam - by
‘No metaphors swarm
/
/ around that fact, around that strangest thing,
/ that being that was and now no longer is.’
/ Iain Crichton Smith
/ …
Bad Moon - by
The moon must be sick of being in poems –
/ always gripped by fingers of late honeysuckle,
/ always filtered in the…
In Breton - by
In Breton, they say
/ there’s a word that weaves between
/ green and blue, allowing for
/ haze, precipitation,
/ the burr of distance,
/ the welcome…
Miracle - by
He went directly and unhurried and scanned the smattering.
/
/ Wingbit snagskin throatlap furthew clawlid eyespit oarfire.
/ Oarfire? No, that’s just dreams talking.